


Destiny, Fickle and Free

by Cumberbatch Critter (ivelostmyspectacles)



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family, Friendship, Gen, Hurt Ichabod Crane, Miscarriage, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 22:25:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2523917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/Cumberbatch%20Critter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after the Witness stop the End of Days - Ichabod and Katrina are expecting a child when it all goes downhill from there.</p><p>[Yes, this is Ichatrina, but it focusses on the bond between Abbie & Ichabod during an emotional moment.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Destiny, Fickle and Free

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Sleepy Holloween](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2512667) by [charleybradburies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/charleybradburies/pseuds/charleybradburies). 



> Rated T for miscarriage - take note.
> 
> I haven't jumped ships, I promise! But this fic was inspired by another ficlet and I wanted to put my own spin on it. I ended up making it Ichatrina because, while I do ship Ichabbie, I'm not very great at writing a very established relationship for them... I just like to write pre-relationship or newly discovered relationship most of the time. :P
> 
> All errors are mine... excuse the mistakes if any!
> 
> I do not own _Sleepy Hollow_. Thanks for reading!

Abbie swears the worst words that she's ever heard is: _We can't find a heartbeat._ She swears they are.

It doesn't matter that it's not ever her child, it's still heartbreaking. It's the fact that she's gotten herself so intricately tangled up in the Crane family that she's practically one of them is why it hurts more than it would to a stranger.

Abbie _swears_ , that after everything that's happened, this is probably the worst. Maybe it's a little hypocritical. Somewhere in the process of their Tribulation, there had been a horrendous earthquake that shook the earth to its core. Thousands died. Of course it had been a blow. A _huge_ blow. Abbie and Ichabod had more or less spent the next week in either of their respective houses, silent and stoic over the news.

And then Irving, who'd been released from the psych ward only to abide by the rules of their fight to stop the apocalypse. He had been fine, more or less, save the lack of his soul, until two months before their final battle. But then he had changed, become a vessel for War himself, and Abbie had spent tears over delivering the final blow to him. Ichabod told her that Irving would not have wanted to live in such a way; Abbie agreed, but it hurt nonetheless.

Nick, as it had turned out, Ichabod had been right about. Twenty-nine collected silver coins later, he'd switched sides so suddenly that Abbie had nearly lost her sister in the transformation. But Hawley hadn't been on their side at all, just using them as a port for his own means. Abbie didn't like to think about it. Death was one thing, but betrayal was something else.

But... this was supposed to be _over_. Their period of Tribulation was finished. They had tasted death and found life again. Ichabod had finally got the happy ending with his wife that he had so desperately sought, and Abbie was content just to see them so damn happy and smiling.

But this wasn't Tribulation. This was just... life. These things happened. It didn't lessen the blow.

Katrina simply looked numb when they'd told her.

"You can try again," Abbie says quietly, over the hum of the engine in the otherwise silent car ride back to the cabin. "You can definitely try again. I mean, you should. These things just happen sometimes." She'd already said she was sorry, apologized over and over even though it wasn't her fault. "Doesn't mean you should give up."

Katrina doesn't make a sound, just stares blankly out the window.

It's a horrified, tense drive back to the cabin. Abbie doesn't know what to say, because she's never been good with emotions to begin with. Katrina gets out of the car, unlocks her door with the extra key they'd had made, and ghosts into the cabin.

"You wanna call Ichabod?" Abbie asks quietly, cringing in anticipation at the response.

Ever since their Tribulation had ended, her and Ichabod had spent a period of time trying to re-adjust. Or rather, Ichabod had struggled to find a place to fit in. Without the Apocalypse to stop, he was consistently bored and more than a little antsy. Abbie still had her job (and had been promoted to Captain, after Irving, nonetheless); and so, Ichabod decided to get a job as well. As fate would have it, he ended up being a lecturer at the community college. It wasn't Oxford, but it was fitting enough.

Katrina shakes her head.

"You want me to call him...?"

Katrina shrugs. She seems to have gone permanently mute. She just sinks into one of the chairs by the fireplace and stares into the silent hearth.

Abbie sighs. She'd say she was sorry again if she thought it would help, but it wouldn't. So, she'd do the next best thing she could and get Ichabod back here to begin the long process of grieving and consoling with his wife.

"Alright, I'll call him up. Give me a few minutes and I'll make you something to eat." Abbie nods to herself and then lets herself out, pulling her phone out of her pocket. She calls the office, because she knows that Ichabod will never answer his cell phone while he's on duty, as he says, and tells them it's an emergency. It brings him to the phone quicker than she imagines it would.

 _"Lieutenant?"_ His voice is worried, and a little confused. _"What's happened? Are you okay?"_

"Yeah, I'm fine. Look..." Abbie leans against the exterior of the cabin, rubbing at her eyes. "I know you're in the middle of lecture, but you need to come home now."

Ichabod's voice pitches with urgency as he speaks again. _"What's happened? Is Katrina alright?"_

"Ichabod," Abbie interrupts. The use of his given name hangs heavy in the silence for a few seconds. "You need to come home, alright?"

She doesn't get a response, but she hears the phone clatter a second later. It hurts her ear, but she can hear the receptionist on call exclaiming _"Mr. Crane?!"_ in the background. Abbie knows he's on his way, so she hangs up and waits.

His face is white when he pulls up erratically - he can drive on his own now - at the cabin. He barely manages to kick the ignition off before he's in front of her, eyes alight with panic. "Lieutenant, what's wrong?" And then he's gone, pushing the door open and inside the cabin before awaiting an answer.

Abbie grabs his arm. "Go slow," she says quietly, like she's talking to an officer before an interrogation, but it's the best advice she can give him. If they push into this too hard, she knows it'll all crash down even worse than it's already destined to.

Ichabod gives her a stern look, belittled by the fear growing on his face, before striding into the cabin. "Katrina?" Katrina looks around and Ichabod comes to a standstill when he sees the tear tracks on her face. "Katrina. My God." He crosses the room and kneels in front of her, gripping her hands. "What's wrong?"

Abbie watches, literally _watches_ the recognition dawn on Ichabod's face. It hurts as much as the initial doctor statement a half an hour ago.

"It's the baby," Ichabod says softly. He's making the connections. The panic dies out of his eyes in exchange for the same, vacant look Katrina has adopted. "No..."

Katrina makes a noise then. She leans forward into Ichabod's embrace and buries her face against his chest and _sobs._

Abbie doesn't move away from the doorway. She doesn't feel like she should be here, even, had it not been for the fact that someone needs to help pick up the pieces when both Katrina and Ichabod fall victim to the understandable pain of loss. This is a private moment, but something prevents her from stepping out.

From her angle, she can't meet Ichabod's gaze, but she sees the torment rip across his features before he ducks his head against Katrina's.

This is supposed to be over. Not only was Ichabod and Katrina's son ripped away from them the first time, this unborn child was, too. For time and time again, Abbie thinks that life is so unfair.

 

She drops by a few days later to drop off Ichabod's coat. She's been mending it for him, whenever there's a button loose. She isn't the best - she certainly doesn't match up to Caroline - but she knows how to fix holes and sew on buttons. Unfortunately, Crane's coat is so old by this point that it's bound to fall apart.

Like so many things.

Neither Ichabod nor Katrina are anywhere to be found. Their vehicle's parked nearby, though, so they're home. Abbie peeks into their bedroom - to her defense, the door was open - to find both of them, in bed. What normally seems so usual to see them together now finds Katrina curled up against Ichabod's chest, knees drawn up and her eyes closed as she sleeps. Ichabod tucks a piece of Katrina's hair behind her ear as Abbie watches, fingers entwined with hers.

Abbie's just about to turn around and make a quiet exit when Ichabod's gaze snaps up and locks on hers. Abbie smiles faintly. He maanges a weak smile in response.

But he does abandon Katrina's hair, removes his hand from hers gently. He gets out of bed slowly, watching his wife, and walks across the bedroom in bare feet to meet Abbie in the doorway.

"Sorry, didn't mean to intrude," Abbie mutters. "I was just bringing your coat back." She decides not to tell him that it can only be mended one or two more times before it will be irreparable. She can spare him that loss for now, at least.

Ichabod glances over to the coat now hanging on the rack. "I see... Thank you, Lieutenant."

"No problem..." She looks up at him more intently; he looks horrible. There's shadows smeared under his eyes, his skin paler than she's used to seeing it. His hair looks disheveled, as if he's forgotten to wash it for two or so days, hanging in limp waves around his face. With a start, Abbie realizes that it's now that he's almost starting to look his age, with the weight of the world on his shoulders. "Can I make you something? Tea?" she asks quietly, hoping to convey the message that she'll do it, anyway.

Ichabod's lips twitch near a frown. "You are a guest in my home, Lieutenant. I couldn't possibly-"

"I insist," Abbie interrupts.

Ichabod blinks and then gestures to the kitchen. "Very well."

Abbie makes two cups of the strongest chamomile she can steep and carries them over to Ichabod.

He's staring out the window and looks around slowly when Abbie approaches him. "Thank you," he says softly, taking the cup of tea.

"Let's go out on the porch." She grips his arm loosely, a signal that she will pull him with her if she has to.

Thankfully, he goes willingly. "Very well."

They settle down on the swinging bench.

Ichabod and Katrina both had been less than anticipatory about installing one, but Katrina was always easier to adapt to this century than Ichabod had been. Where Ichabod had been reserved or sometimes appalled, Katrina enjoyed the idea of wearing long pants or being able to find a recipe at the click of a button on her phone. So, when Katrina had decided that a swinging bench was the traditional icon of growing old together - _"We're going to sit on this bench, Ichabod, and when we're old and grey, we'll still be here together."_ \- Ichabod had been helpless and without conviction to say no to her. He had done little of that since she had come back, to begin with.

"How have you been, Lieutenant?" Ichabod asks quietly, breathing in the steam from his tea. He closes his eyes, but then opens them again in favor of looking at her.

Abbie shrugs. "Fine. Nothing that's required my attention or anything. I do have a new appreciation for Irving, though... there's so much paperwork. I don't know how he ever got anything done between that and the fighting."

"He was a most studious man," Ichabod murmurs. "I regret his loss most keenly."

"We all do," Abbie replies, and sips at her tea.

Ichabod doesn't respond, and Abbie doesn't press the issue. Not the time to be reminiscing over the horrors that they had faced in war, but she's pretty sure that neither of them felt like discussing the amazements, either.

Instead, Abbie reaches over and curls his fingers around his gently.

Ichabod doesn't respond for a moment, and then grips her fingers tightly in response.

 

He falls asleep. It doesn't surprise Abbie, who's never seen him with such deep-set dark rings under his eyes since the apocalypse. Instead, she just wedges his cup from his fingers gently and sets it back on the windowsill. She offers her shoulder as a pillow and Ichabod doesn't wake up for over an hour.

When he does, he stares around blearily before realizing he's using Abbie as a pillow. He sits up fast that Abbie's neck almost hurts _for_ him. "Lieutenant! I'm sorry. I apologize, I didn't intent to fall asleep."

Abbie turns her head to look at him. "Are you ever gonna call me Abbie?"

Crane looks at her.

"I'm not even a Lieutenant anymore, Crane."

"You will always be a Lieutenant to me, Miss Mills," Ichabod says quietly.

Abbie smiles faintly. "Yes... I know. But I'm Abbie to you, too."

Ichabod just looks her blankly for another moment before seeming to fold. "Abbie," he says shortly. It feels forced this time, and his voice is strained. The fight's just gone out of him, shoulders drooping. "Abigail," he mutters. This time, his eyes fill with tears before he looks away.

"Oh, okay. Come here." Abbie has to stretch to reach her arms around him, but she manages to pull him into her embrace. "You're okay."

Ichabod locks his arms around her back and turns his face against her shoulder. He doesn't speak, but Abbie's fairly sure that he couldn't speak if he wanted to. She can feel the sobs wracking his body, although he's so clearly trying to keep himself silent.

"It's okay," Abbie mutters, even though it's not. She's never really understood false sentiment, but it works now. Maybe he's not okay, but he will be, eventually. She'll make sure of it, make sure both of the Cranes will be alright after this. As alright as possible, anyway.

Ichabod doesn't reply to the false sentiment, just tightens his grip around her torso slightly. Abbie's positive that she's never seen him like this, whilst hoping she doesn't have to again.

She doesn't say anything. There's nothing else to say, and she's content to just hold him close. She might not be able to hold him together, but at least she can hold him while he falls apart.

At some point, her police instincts honed hard, she feels someone watching them. She tenses up at first, product of the past of having demons stare at them mercilessly, but then catches Katrina's gaze through the window. Abbie smiles weakly and she's surprised when Katrina smiles back in the same way - strained, depressed, and pure pain, but _trying_.

Ichabod clears his throat and pulls back slowly, immediately scrubbing at his eyes. "I-" he starts, but Abbie interrupts him.

"Do _not_ say you're sorry." Abbie squeezes his arm. "Please."

Ichabod nods shortly. "Alright," he breathes, and rubs at his eyes harder. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me," Abbie replies. "You're allowed to mourn, Ichabod."

He breathes in deeply and sits back. The bench sways slightly from his movement. "I'm supposed to the pillar in this relationship. The building blocks on which our strength comes from."

"I wouldn't let your wife hear you say that."

Ichabod looks at her.

"Well, you know. She's kind of a badass."

Ichabod almost smiles. "Yes... she is indeed a ‘badass’." He combs his fingers through his hair to push it back. "It does not change the fact that this is the man's job in the relationship. I am obligated to be strong, for her."

"I don't know." Abbie flicks her gaze to the window, but Katrina's gone now. "Something like this... I mean, I don't know, but I'd say it would... kind of help if you were both being _weak_ together. It makes it easier for the other person to grieve."

"Me breaking face is going to help?"

Abbie sighs. "You can't just ignore it, you can't... forget about it. You have to mourn and then move on. In that order."

Ichabod rubs his nose. "Yes. Well..." He searches through his pockets. "That's..."

"Easier said than done?" Abbie muses.

"Yes." He produces an embroidered handkerchief from a pocket.

"That's the nature of loss," Abbie mutters. "Look, I know it's not the same thing, but... back when this all started, when I lost Corbin... I went into denial. That nothing was happening, that there was a logical explanation for everything. I didn't want to accept that there was all this... Witness stuff happening, pretty sure it all stemmed off of Corbin. I was in a bad place when this all started happening and it went to hell. You can't let that happen to you, Crane. You're strong enough to grieve over this openly, and then come back. I know you are."

Ichabod stares at her blankly before smiling slightly. "Miss Mills... you have always been there for me."

Abbie shrugs. "You're the one who told me, Crane. Maybe all we get is each other, that was our curse."

"A curse of which we are free of," Ichabod replies.

Abbie raises her eyebrows. "Are we?"

Ichabod opens his mouth to speak, but then closes it again.

"Stuff like this, it's life. Bad things happen, just like during the Tribulation, so we're never really _free_ of it. It's a little less supernatural now, but we're never free of it," Abbie says. "Wouldn't be living if we were. We have to struggle. _Every day_. But if we didn't have to, we wouldn't be the people we are today." She straightens up a bit. "Besides, I like your company. Did you think I was gonna bail after we stopped the End of Days?"

Ichabod smiles faintly again at this. "No, Lieutenant. I would never assume you to bail on anything."

"Exactly." Abbie nods.

"Thank you, Mis- ... Abbie," he corrects himself, and Abbie feels like when she smiles this time, it's the most genuine it's felt in weeks.

 

When they head back inside a few minutes later, Ichabod immediately crosses the room and wraps his arms around Katrina, burying his face against her neck.

Abbie doesn't catch their words. Instead, she goes to make another batch of tea, with some for Katrina this time. After she drinks this, she's going to take off and let them work out the turmoil of emotions they both must suffer from.

Needless to say, she's surprised when Katrina joins her in the kitchen and _hugs_ her.

"Thank you, Abigail," Katrina whispers.

Abbie hesitates before hugging her back. It isn't that they don't get along; they always have. But she doesn't have the same relationship with her as she does with Ichabod, so it's a little more hesitant. "For what?"

"Letting him mourn."

"I didn't do anything," Abbie replies.

"You are here, Miss Abigail, and that is all I ask for him." Katrina pulls away and turns, crossing the cabin to join Ichabod by the fire.

Abbie blinks as she goes. But then she just shakes her head slightly, snapping her back to the present, and turns back to the tea.

Entwined with the Crane family, indeed. She doesn't mind. It's a good family.

 


End file.
